


Safe

by Apetslife



Category: Popslash
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-03
Updated: 2012-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-30 13:00:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apetslife/pseuds/Apetslife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Justin gets attacked on stage by a crazy fan, he has a really hard time feeling safe.  Fortunately, Joey's around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe

It wasn't that he hadn't noticed that Joey was a big guy. Taller than he was, even, and broad with it in a way that Justin wasn't, with big bulky muscles in his arms and legs that seemed to be made for heavy lifting, and certainly weren't grown in a gym. Joey had wide shoulders and a thick neck, and he was just...large. And of course Justin had noticed. He'd been living with the man for six years.

But he'd never noticed like this. Not like right now, when Joey was standing behind him in the glare of the bright lights with a hand on the small of his back, calming him as he panted and stared a little frantically and held his sore arm. Ignoring the screaming and the shouts in his earpiece to bend his head to Justin and murmur "you're ok, J, it'll be ok," too low for a microphone to pick up, but clear in Justin's ears, and Justin relaxed, just a fraction, for the first time since the girl's feet had hit the catwalk, and she'd thrown herself at him, screaming. His heart was still rabbiting away, and his hands felt heavy and numb and useless. He'd been ripped out of that shining place where he went when he was on stage, and he was scared, and he didn't want to dance any more, and he didn't think he could sing at all. But Joey was there. Huge and solid against his back. Better than any bodyguard, because Joey would walk through fire for him, and he knew it, and he leaned back into the touch and sighed. He thought he might be able to keep going. Joey wouldn't let anything get to him, and he knew it in his bones. Joey was big enough to keep anything away.

He kept his eyes on Joey for the rest of the song, and noticed that Joey never strayed too far from his side.

"Bye bye!" Hands out, freeze, bow, smile, laugh, wave. Scramble to the pod, must always have high energy! His hands were still shaking, though, and running down the corridor to the dressing room, he bounced off the wall twice. Graceful, right. He kept his eyes firmly fixed on the back of Chris's head, bobbing in front of him as he ran, and willed his knees to steadiness. What the fuck? This had happened to him before. This was almost normal. Why should one hysterical girl grabbing for his face and his body be messing with his mind like this? He just wouldn't let it. He put it out of his mind, brushed off the concerned hands, and smiled for the rest of the night. Chris and JC kept a worried eye on him, he knew, but Joey was just himself. Relaxed, a little placid, smiling, the way he always was after a concert. Hugging them all tight, and letting them feel the love.

Justin sat up straight in the small hours of the morning, shivering, a scream caught behind his tongue. Fumbled for the light, and no, she wasn't here, hadn't snuck past security in her glittering tank top and black jeans and crazy eyes, talon hands reaching for him. He was alone. He was fine.

He repeated that over and over, as he sat, rocking a little with his arms wrapped around his knees, making himself as small as he could. He was fine. He'd be fine.

He called Britney as soon as it was late enough for her to be up, his hands fumbling with the little cell phone. She'd heard. Of course she had. And she cooed into his ear, and told him that the business SUCKED, sweetie, but it was all part of the deal, which he already KNEW, thanks, and she gave him an air kiss and ran off to dance rehearsal. It was great to have a girlfriend in the business, and all, but sometimes she just took everything a little too in stride. He didn't tell her about the dream.

He knew he probably looked like shit when he wandered into Lance's room for breakfast--Lance was usually the only one awake and aware enough to not order them all spaghetti or just plain toast for breakfast--but he couldn't bring himself to care. He was tired, dammit, and more than a little cranky, and he hated it when he got like this. From the wary looks he got from Lance and JC, they hated it too. No one spoke to him until he'd sat down and made it through half a bowl of cereal. It wasn't helping.

Joey came through the door, rumpled and yawning, Chris on his heels. He took a look around, a little blearily, and smiled.

"What is this, still life with food? Who died?" His face suddenly clouded. "No one really did die, did they? Because if they did, I'm a big asshole..."

Lance snorted. "Nah. Don't worry about it, Joe. Justin just came in like the angel of misery, so we're giving him cereal time."

"Oh." He walked straight over to Justin, settled beside him on the bed, and looped a heavy arm around his neck. Justin glared at him, but didn't move, and Joey smiled at him again, sleepily.

"Rough night, J?"

"No." He sounded pissy even to himself, so he filled his mouth with cereal and frowned down into his bowl.

"OK. Lance, hand me those eggs, man. I swear to Christ, I've got to start eating something after shows. I'm DYIN', here."

"Joe, you're always DYIN', dude..." Lance laughed, and passed the eggs, and they fell into the normal morning routine. But Joey kept his shoulder butted up against Justin's, and Justin let himself lean a little into the warmth. Felt his insides unknot, just a small ease, and sighed. He was done eating, and just tired, now. He pressed harder into Joey's side, like he used to when he was younger and needed a hug, and Joey obliged, sliding a hand to the far side of his waist, never pausing in his story about the broken zipper on his pants last night. Justin cuddled in, just the littlest bit, and let his eyes fall closed. He was so tired...

"Justin. Come on, baby. We've gotta get on the bus again. Wake up, J." The arm around him was shaking him, and he scrunched his eyes closed tighter, felt a chuckle shake through him from the large warm he was leaning on. "Justin, you're too big for me to carry. Come on, you can sleep on the bus." He was lifted to his feet easily, though, and he thought muzzily that Joey probably COULD carry him, if he wanted to. But he shook himself awake, and staggered out to the elevator, down into the underground parking lot, and into the bus. He mumbled something at Chris about "keeping it the fuck DOWN, ok?" and crawled straight into his bunk.

This time, the scream got out before he woke up. Claws at his eyes, scraping his cheeks bloody, and he was blind...oh jesus...his throat was raw, and JC was yanking the bunk curtain open in a panic, staring at him with huge eyes, grabbing for his arm.

"Justin, Justin...what is it...Chris, move, you're shoving, Justin, are you ok?"

"Bad...dream..." Justin controlled the panting with an effort, and ran a shaky hand over his face.

"Wanna talk about it?" JC had his concerned face on, and his hand was running up and down Justin's bare arm. Chris was peering over his shoulder, looking scared. Justin shook his head.

"Nah, C. I'm ok. Hey, Chris." He sat still, looking at them looking at him, then shook himself off and climbed out of his bunk. "Wanna play Tekken?"

Justin managed to keep himself awake for the rest of the day with video games and music and feeding off Chris's hyperactivity. That was just a fucked up dream, and he really didn't want to have it again. He could see bags under his eyes in the mirror, and they were red-rimmed and heavy...with his new hair, he looked a little like a felon, after too long in solitary. He grinned a little at the image, thankful that they didn't have a show that night. He just needed some distance from the night before. That girl had messed with his brain, but it was passing. It was. He was just tired, that was all. Which was what he wanted to talk to Joey about. Of course.

"Yo, J. How's life on the lame bus?" Joey's voice was deep and lazy, and Justin could just picture him, spread out on that ridiculous couch, drinking a beer, watching Lance work.

"Chris is freaking because I beat him three times in a row at Tekken, so he's practicing alone. JC has his headphones on, he's sleeping. I'm bored, yo."

"You, Jup? C'mon. Take a nap or something, man. You looked beat this morning."

"I tried. It, um, didn't work out so well."

"What, you getting sick again?" Concern laced through Joey's tone.

"Nah. Nightmares."

"'S that what kept you up last night?"

"Yeah." Justin's voice was small.

"Hey, man, that's ok. You were pretty shook up last night. It's normal, Justin."

"It's just...freaky, you know? That chick, she's coming at me, and her nails are all sharp, and she's going for my eyes, like she hates me or sumthin..." It felt good to talk about this. With Joey. Joey, out of all of them, might be able to help.

"Dude, relax. It's just a dream. It'll pass. Nobody hates you, kid, it's just that some of them love you too much. We've got tonight off, so you can chill and rest up. We'll stay in and get a video or something, ok? Sound good?"

"Yeah." But what he really wanted was for Joey to maybe put a hand on his back again, like he'd done onstage.

"Justin child, get your ass in here for the whuppin' it deserves!" Chris's voice could cut glass, he sometimes thought.

"Gotta go. Later, Joe."

"OK. Be good."

"You KNOW it." He could hear Joey's grin in response, almost, and he already felt better.

He only figured out he was being babysat when Lance wouldn't leave his room at the hotel, after they'd checked in. Chris hadn't left his side in hours, and JC had drifted in and out, and Joey had called him back to chat, after Justin had seen Jace whispering into his own cell phone at the back of the bus. It was the scream, he figured. He'd freaked them out worse than he'd realized. But it was nice to have company, even if it was Lance, who was humming and putting Justin's clothes away in drawers for him, despite the fact they'd only be there for two days. Which was a little infuriating.

"I'm putting your socks in with your shirts, 'kay, Justin?" Justin was lying on his stomach on his bed, watching Lance putter around.

"Lance...LEAVE 'em, man. I'll just have to pack again on Sunday!"

"That doesn't mean we can't live like real people, you know. Clothes belong in drawers, not in bags." It was eerie, sometimes, how much Lance sounded like Diane Bass. In a lower register, of course.

"Lance..." Bright green eyes turned on him, expectant, and he sighed, and shook his head. "Look...just stop with the clothes, ok? I'm gonna try to get some sleep. Go. I don't need y'all watching me." He waved a hand at Lance. "Get gone."

"But..." Lance's brows drew down, and Justin realized he was under orders from Chris, or maybe Joey. Not that he didn't care, but Lance would never think to babysit Justin. Lance still thought Justin could do anything. Old habits.

"I'm FINE, Lance. Just let me get some sleep, ok? We'll get movies and shit later, we'll all hang out."

Lance nodded reluctantly, and left, and Justin sighed. He'd been doing that a lot, he realized. He rolled onto his back, stared at the ceiling, and let his eyes fall shut.

She'd gotten him, he was frozen, he couldn't move, and her hands were tearing out his eyes, shooting pain in his head, in his throat where she was biting him, his VOICE! he was losing his voice, no! and oh, pain, and he was soscaredsoscaredSCREAMING

"Justin!"

He shuddered awake, tangled in damp sheets. Flung himself at Joey, landed against him with a thud, and was immediately wrapped up in arms and body and warmth, and he could see, and his throat was sore but working. Just a dream, just a dream. Joey was bent around him, holding tight. Wiping tears from his cheeks with one thumb, and holding hard with the other arm.

"Shhh...Shhhh...Don't cry...Justin..." Joey's voice was almost a croon, and Justin had heard that before, when Lance collapsed, when Dani dumped Chris, when JC was having panic attacks during the lawsuit. Never for him, though, and he just broke and sobbed, burying his face in Joey's shoulder, and the worst of it was, he didn't know WHY. His insides hurt. His head was aching, and he had never been so miserable or so tired. He felt about four years old. Joey...

***

"Hey, hey. Come on." Joey rested his chin on the top of Justin's head, scratchy with rough fuzz, and let him cry it out. Stared into the dark room, rocking a little, arms full of scared sobbing boy. Poor baby. He forgot, a lot, that Justin wasn't even twenty-one yet. He tried so hard to be adult--and succeeded, most of the time--that it was easy to lose track. He even felt all grown up under Joey's hands, long and strong and solid with muscle. Joey rolled his eyes, safely out of sight. SO not the time to cop a feel, Joe. He'd gotten used to the low hum of Justin that was always around, the prickly, oversensitive feeling of his skin when Justin swaggered around without a shirt on, the shiver when Justin jumped on him for a tickle fight; he'd had to. But it was a lot harder when the kid was clinging to him like an overgrown limpet.

Soothing, that was the ticket. He stroked Justin's back, long sweeps of his palm, firmly ignoring the delicate feel of the skin in the hollow above Justin's tailbone. Justin was finally winding down, taking the occasional shuddering deep breath in among the tears, and relaxing against him.

"Shhh. It'll be ok." That was all he knew how to say, and he'd said it so many times it was starting to lose its meaning. He'd never seen Justin this torn up. And while it was nice, that Justin had come to him--*involuntarily!* his mind shouted--and he got to try to help, it was a little scary. Justin never fell apart like this. Justin, like Joey, tended to hold things together.

He squeezed tighter, and Justin made a little 'oof' sound, and finally took a real breath. Stopped crying. But he didn't move away.

***

Justin thought he could probably sleep like this. Just like this. He was on Joey's lap, head tucked against his collarbone, and it was comfortable. Really nice. Better than nice. He sighed, and finally unclenched enough to slide his arms around Joey's waist, and curl in.

"Justin..." He could feel the words in Joe's chest, before they were even spoken.

"Y-yeah." Voice still shaky and raw, dammit. He didn't look up.

"J...tell me about it."

"You know. Scary dream."

"Like the last ones?"

"She...she was biting me, this time. And, and, I lost my voice, because she got my throat..." Justin shivered, got squeezed again. He somehow didn't mind that he sounded like a baby. It was Joey. And Joey called everyone baby, and meant it in the nicest way, and wouldn't think any less of him.

"Oh, that's bad. Here, scoot up." Joey moved him away *nononono* and set him against the pillows on the bed, and stood up. Clicked the bedside lamp, and Justin winced as the light hit his raw eyes. He knew he looked terrible. He did not cry prettily, like Lance or Britney. He got all red and splotchy and disgusting. He covered his face with his hands, suddenly unwilling to have Joey see him like this. Which was stupid, since they'd all seen him drunk and puking, sweating, dirty. But this was different. This was almost...intimate. With Joey bending over the mini-bar, pouring him a tumbler of whiskey, bringing it to him, sliding onto the bed at his side.

"Medicinal. Drink up. You're strung tighter than JC's nasty old guitar."

"I'm underage, y'know." He was looking at Joey sideways, through his eyelashes, before he even knew what he was doing.

"Don't think I don't know it. But I think even Mama Lynn would be ok with it this time. You're a mess, boy." Joey nudged him with a shoulder as he sipped obediently. "Why's this fucking with you so bad?"

Justin leaned into him, felt the liquor burn down into his empty stomach and start a small fire there.

"I dunno. It's not, like, anything I'm used to. I don't know. I don't want to talk about it."

"Want me to go get Chris, or Jace?"

"NO!" Justin caught himself, lowered his voice. "No."

"OK. Whatever you want, baby." They sat in comfortable silence for a little while, Justin slowly emptying his glass. His mind was whirling, but he did feel better. Still exhausted, and his eyes hurt. He tipped his head down to Joey's shoulder, hungry for that feeling of safety, and barely felt it when Joey took the glass out of his limp hand, and hauled the blankets up around them. Joey was staying. He slept.

Voices and the slant of sunlight across his face woke him, and for a minute he cursed their habit of all getting connecting rooms. And then he realized he'd slept, really SLEPT, for the first time in what felt like years, and he stretched luxuriously, delighted with the feeling. Stopped, when he realized he was stretching on someone.

"--like a kitty cat." Chris' voice, amused.

"Dammit, Chris, I told you your damn woman voice was gonna wake him up." From directly over his head. Joey was sitting up, apparently. Justin was afraid to look.

"He's not awake. He's just stirring. And I don't have a woman voice, you freak."

"Uh huh. Whatever."

"'S he ok, you think?" Chris was serious, suddenly, and Justin listened attentively. Suddenly there was a hand on his head, brushing lightly over his hair.

"Yeah. Straw that broke the camel's back, I think. He just needed some sleep."

"Is THAT what you were doing?" He could hear the smirk in Chris's voice.

"What...Chris, you're a nasty little man."

"I'm just sayin', you know, the way you two were all cozy-lookin', thought my Joe might finally be getting some sweet lov-"

"Shut UP." And that was a real growl, something rarely heard from Joey, and Justin was suddenly very glad he hadn't opened his eyes.

"Joe...Joe, I was just kidding, dude..."

"Get the fuck out, Kirkpatrick. Seriously. I'm gonna be pissed at you till at least noon." And Joey sounded like he meant it. He heard Chris mutter something about 'uptight' and 'sexual frustration' and then the door clicked shut.

Fingers were still rubbing gently over his scalp when Justin let his eyes open. He hoped he wasn't blushing too hard.

"Morning, J."

"Hi, Joey." He took stock. He was sprawled across Joey's legs, head on one thigh, one hand curled into the front of Joey's old t-shirt. He was really terribly comfortable. Which was probably why the next thing out of his mouth was,

"Joey, why'd you and Lance not work out?" And he immediately called himself every nasty name he could think of, when Joey froze solid underneath him.

"WHAT?" Joey sounded like he was swallowing his tongue.

Still cursing himself, Justin pushed on. In for a penny, in for a pound, after all. And he really did want to know. Badly.

"Like, in Germany. I thought you guys were gonna get together. Chris did too, we used to talk about it all the time, you know?"

"Um."

"I mean. We thought. I mean. I saw y'all kissing one time."

"Really."

"Yeah." Justin didn't mention the thoughts that had flashed through his head, one of which being that Lance was a freaky little blond with weird eyes and what was Joey doing with him when there was a JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE around? because memories of his ego back then still made him blush.

"Jup, Lance is straight."

Justin couldn't hold in the snort of laughter, and felt Joey relax a little as an unwilling chuckle answered him.

"Well, ok. So he's not. But that was just playing, you know? Kid stuff."

"What about you? Are you straight?"

Joey chuckled again. "Mostly."

"Yeah." Justin let a palm slide up to rest beside his face, on Joey's thigh, and felt the muscle clench, and smiled. "Me too."

"Justin..."

"Joey..." He mimicked the tone precisely. Rubbed his thumb in little circles, feeling the fabric of Joey's sweatpants moving with the motion.

"Justin, this ain't funny. Knock that off."

"I don't wanna." He was Justin Timberlake, and he always, always got what he wanted. Especially if Joey was around, and funny how he'd never consciously noticed that before.

"Do not fuck with me, J." And he was suddenly heaved up and over to the other side of the bed--FUCK Joe was strong--and Joey was standing and running a hand through his hair distractedly. Facing away.

"Joooo-eeeey." His best little boy whine, and he saw Joe's shoulders hunch forward.

"Dude, look, you've had a rough couple of days, and you're still all messed up, and you've got a girlfriend, hell, I'VE got a girlfriend, and you sure as hell wouldn't be hitting on my ass if you were in your right mind, so, you know, give me a second and I'll just go, and-"

Justin cut off the rushing tumble of words by sliding off the bed and up against Joey's back, and he felt that full-body shudder that could only mean one thing. Lots of stuff was coming clear to him this morning. Joey, at his back in every club. Joe, coming between him and rough questions in interviews. The way he'd always look for Justin in a crowd, and how it was always easy to find him, because Justin was looking back. The way he'd come and lean against Joey's back, relaxed and soaking up comfort, after Chris had chased him into tiredness. All the little touches. Too bad it had taken a huge screaming nervous breakdown to show him the light, but hey. Justin was willing to take what he could get.

"Joe." His lips were moving against Joey's neck, and he smelled clean and salt and Joey. Delicious. Joey was shaking. "I'm fine, now. Brit's fucking her choreographer on a nightly basis, and don't even tell me that you and Kell don't have an open relationship, cuz I know your mama taught you not to lie. Joey. Come back to bed." That was his pitch. Oh, fuck, he hoped it worked. He slid arms around Joey's waist, and felt Joey's stomach flutter against his palms.

"Justin..." His voice was helpess and broken, and Justin knew he'd won. He smiled. Turned him around. Looked right into shining brown eyes, so damn pretty. And, thankful that he wasn't going to get a crick in his neck, he leaned in for the kiss. Finally.

Joey kissed like he did everything, sweetly and without complication. Opened his mouth for Justin's tongue, swept his own into Justin's mouth to taste, and let them play together. Slick slide of wet heat, rubbing together, almost familiar even though it was all new. Big hands came up to hold Justin's hips, pull him deeper into Joey, against his body, into the kiss. Justin was almost humming with delight, and felt his bones go liquid. This was better than the hand on his back, the hug after the show. This was all for him, he could taste it, see it in the way Joey's lashes swept down to close his eyes, feel it in the way Joey was hard against him. In the way Joey moaned when Justin slid hands into the waistband of his pants, panted when Justin wrapped a hand around his cock, whispered Justin's name when he came. And drank Justin in like water, when he was sprawled on the bed, bright lights behind his eyes, brain shorted out from the feeling of Joey's mouth on him.

So this...THIS was what love felt like.

[end]


End file.
